


Chicken Nuggets

by VocalRaynbow



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Drabbles, Multi, Shipping, Yuri, chicken nuggets, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 00:22:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VocalRaynbow/pseuds/VocalRaynbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mm, chicken. Fresh out of the toaster oven. They come in all different colors and shapes and sizes, but they all taste the same. That is to say, utterly delicious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Procrastination

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! You may know me from FFN. I don't know. I thought I should post some works here. Mainly Homestuck with some Vocaloid thrown in. C: These are just little drabbles that popped into my head. I hope you enjoy them.

**I. Procrastination**

A gently drifting snowflake on a winter day. A freshly licked stamp stuck on an envelope. Warm, sweet covers after a long day. Those were the things that she loved. The familiar little habits of life that had become so expected and beloved. Simple? Why yes. Predictable? In its very nature. She lived for the little moments.

It was the big moments that she was lacking in. Her whole life so far had been genuinely unremarkable. She had impacted nothing, accomplished nothing. She was always telling herself that she would do something someday. That someday hadn't exactly arrived yet.

Rubbing her eyes in the new dawn, she told herself that she would finally paint a masterpiece. It had always been her dream to. And she knew just the setting. The beach. The look of the sunlight reflecting off the waves, oh, it's so lovely. This thought wasn't a new one. She had been telling herself this for the past few months. Ah, procrastination.

But as she exited her house, easel in arm, she told herself that that day would be different. She would get something done, whatever it may be. Yes, that would be her goal. The beach was a short walk away, but her arm ached all the same. It begged her to stop and do this another time. To give it a rest. And she very nearly gave in. That was when someone graciously intervened.

“Do you need help with that?” came a gentle, mature voice. She turned around. There stood a gorgeous person. She felt slightly sheepish, standing there all average with her easel tucked under her elbow.

“Yes, that would be wonderful!” she told the woman. “Thank you very much.” The beautiful person took the easel from her and began to walk alongside.

“You paint?” the person said. Well, now she would have to. No doubt about it. This person would want to see her in action now. Not that she minded, haha. “Ah, I haven't even introduced myself,” the beautiful person laughed. “Luka Megurine, pleasure to meet you.”

She smiled her biggest smile right back. “Rin Kagamine. The pleasure's all mine.”


	2. Cookie Crumbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's so very cold, and little Rin is getting annoyed.

**II. Cookie Crumbs**

Oh, it's so cold! She shivered and clutched at her arms. It was the coldest winter night in their area in fifty years. And that was saying something, considering how north they were. Just figures, she pouted. Her teeth chattered and she clutched the blanket closer. So...cold... Her little feet dangled off the couch, not quite touching the floor.

And there's Luka, wearing a thick coat in the house. It looked so silly, but she couldn't blame her. “R-R-Rin,” Luka shivered. “Why d-d-don't I make something nice and warmm.” She stressed the last word, and then gave a sneeze.

And that was how Luka ended up holding Rin so she could gaze at the plate of steaming cookies with greedy eyes. And snatch nearly every one of them up. And then all that was left were cookie crumbs. Rin gave the catish grin of a small child, licking her lips in triumph.


	3. Sheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mm, maybe just this once...

**III. Sheets**

The morning was icy. Neither wanted to get out of bed, to abandon the warmth and soft covers. It was six in the morning for crying out loud! To get up then just to freeze your butt off, well... Not the most fun thing in the world. Rin snuggled closer. Maybe she could “accidentally” oversleep. That might work.

Her hand found Luka's and the two entwined gracefully. The salmony scent filled Rin's nose and she gave a sweet sigh. Oh, she wished she could just lay there forever and ever-

“I know you're awake, Rin.”

Damn it.


	4. Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come on, Rin. Just pick one!

**IV. Bottle**

So there I was. I don't know how it happened, but I was sitting at Len's kitchen table, a glass bottle lying on its side in front of me. And in the seats ahead sat Len himself (the great banana king!) and Kaito. No, this isn't some yaoi fantasy gone wrong. No steamy BL for you fangirls. Rather...

“Rin, would you mind spinning?” Len's counterpart, the ice cream king, suggested mildly. He was a very mild person. I have no idea how Len dragged him into it. He fidgeted in embarrassment and twiddled his fingers.

“Ah, well...” I murmured, hand still hovering over the bottle expectantly. It wouldn't spin itself. Sigh. I didn't want to land on either. That would mean a date, and a mandatory kiss. I couldn't imagine kissing Len. Euugh. And Kaito? Basically the same. Why had I agreed to this again? Oh wait. Yep. There's rope tying me to the chair. Right.

I spun it. My heart pounded in my chest. It spun and spun and rattled loudly. Then it began to slow down. Oh god. The lip pointed at Kaito, and I took in a sharp breath. Kaito blushed scarlet and turned away. And the bottle swerved.

Len grinned at me. And Kaito. “Congrats guys! I'll book a restaurant for you two.” Why so cocky? He had probably done this to encourage Kaito to finally ask me out. How pathetic. But it seems his plan failed.

“Wait a second, banana hair,” I snapped. “That bottle isn't pointed toward Kaito.” I was right. It was perfectly aimed, bullseye, at Len. He looked down, and turned white. As in, brand new printer paper white. I heard him mutter something under his breath. A curse, perhaps?

Kaito was back to thumbing through papers awkwardly, seemingly glad to be out of the limelight. Len glared at him incredulously. “So you're just going to give up?” he snarled. It wasn't rage that was making him tremble and shout. Ha, no. Len was disappointed.

But I was done. I undid the rope, remarking upon why I hadn't done it earlier. I mean, my arms were completely free. What a blond moment. “See you two,” I waved, grabbing the doorknob in a free hand. “Oh, and Len. Pick me up at eight tomorrow.” I felt this burst of sick pleasure from his anger. Odd.

But then, this is a date with Len and me we're talking about. What part of it isn't bizarre and full of stubborn arguments?


	5. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rin hates Summer. Especially when she's with Len.

**V. Summer**

Her name was Rin Kagamine. High school student, average grades, computer nut. It took a lot to get her out of the house. A lot. She'd much rather plop down on her desk chair and peruse the web, maybe mess around in Photoshop. Or chat with her internet buds. What could be better? In her childhood friend's opinion, many things. Especially getting a summer job. What a workaholic. Charismatic too, with that irresistible grin of his. You can't argue with those sparkling molars.

“Hey, Rin!” he shouted, giving her a wave. His tanktop is all damp. Ew. “I figured we could start out by washing this guy's car.” Len ran a business doing odd jobs and such. Mowing, cleaning, weeding, and yes, car washing too. He adored it. She abhorred it. In fact, she'd much rather squeeze lemons in her eyes. Charming, no?

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, walking closer. It was terribly hot. As in, the sky is made of fire hot. And humid. This was one case where the hyperbole 'you could roast an egg on the sidewalk' would not be an exaggeration at all. Hell, Rin guessed she could cook a steak on the pavement. Fortunately, the heat snatched away any possible appetite and energy from her drowsy mind. “So what do you want me to do?”

He blinked at her curiously, and then raised his head to think. “Hmm, how about I get the water started, and you start scrubbing some soap on?” he suggested, finger pointing up in that oh so typical 'I have an idea' way. Ugh. Better get this over with. God knew why they were friends, anyway. She grabbed a sponge, scowling in the summer heat, and drowned it in soap. If it were alive, she was sure that it would be screaming and flailing under the water in a desperate attempt for air. It gave her a sadistic sort of pleasure.

And so the routine began. Squeeze, swipe. Squeeze, swipe. Rub, rub, rub. Soon the car was all moist and streaky. “Alright, Len,” she gave a sigh, shutting her eyes in exhaustion. Yes, she got tired that quickly. Shut up. She heard him fasten the tool to the hose. She heard him twist and twist the metal ring.

And she felt the water spray her from head to toe.

This caused her eyes to jerk open, anxiously surveying her person. Damn it! She was dripping and, though it cooled her considerably, it was just as horrible and squelchy as it would be normally. But what really sent her off the edge? Her shirt. She had, being such a genius, chosen a white shirt. And you know, I'm sure, what happens when a white shirt gets wet.

“LEN!” she yelled, teeth bared in murderous rage. Oh, he was going to _get it_.


	6. Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing. Or, is there?

**VI. Void**

White. White, everywhere. Nothing but white. Ahh, yes. This, this was the dreamed of, the beloved paradise. Surely. And there was black. Black, as far as the eye could see. And white again. In fact, he doubted he had even seen black. Perhaps it had never existed at all, if it were something that could 'exist'. Nothing here was tangible, believable. He was constantly doubting if what he saw was even real. But that, that is nothing. That is the void. He was something. He thought so, anyway. There was no light to see himself in. No reflections, no mirrors. And he didn't have a body to move...

But somehow, he knew he was real. Just the fact that he could think and ponder and question like this proved that. It was rather lonely though. All he saw was in an instant. All he saw was everything there was. He had no memories or possessions or sense of identity. Nothing, absolute nothing... That was all he knew.

And then, for a moment, although he had no knowledge of what constituted as a moment, he felt hot breath on his neck. Unmistakable. Something warm, sweet on his cheek. He had a cheek? He had a neck? He had... a body? The sensation of not being 'nothing'. The sensation of something 'else' being so near.

All at once, he found himself sitting on a picnic blanket, a cute girl asleep on his shoulder. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. And so did his. Why, to think otherwise would just be silly. That void? Ah, it could have never existed. Simply impossible. It had never crossed his blue eyes. No, certainly not. There was no such thing as a 'void' and he couldn't imagine what one would even be like. Assured of this, he leaned on Rin's head and drifted back into sleep. Mm, sweet dreams.


	7. Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was knee deep in the lion's pitch black den. But, ah, where could he be?

**VII. Lion's Den**

Blanket drawn up close. Shades drawn. Fireplace, roaring. Roaring like the beast it was, wild and untamed and clawing at the brick with merciless fury. Whispers outside the window. Branches whipping at the walls And she shivered. Hardly dared to breathe. Afraid. Afraid that the monsters would reach in and grab her and that would be the end. Afraid to even shut her eyes, lest her mind dissolve into horrible nightmares.

She swore, she _swore_ she heard a knock, a rap. The hallways creaking and the dreaded sound of footsteps. And perhaps a growl in the distance. Her heart beat quick and rough. _Pound, pound_. Unforgiving, pulsating. _Pound, pound_. Adrenaline pumping and fear growing with every _creak_ or _crackle_ or _whisper_ the night had to offer.

She was knee deep in the lion's pitch black den. But he, the hungry beast, was nowhere to be seen. Hidden. Submerged in shadows. And she heard his _pacing_ , his muffled _footsteps_ all around her. Maddening. Frightening. And her death was simply inevitable. He was eventually going to leap out, tear her heart out of her chest, gnaw at her sweet, bloodstained flesh. But how long could he taunt her? How long would he keep this up?

Shivering in her little bed. Socked feet curving, back caving in. Knuckles white from gripping the covers so tight. And she _swore_ she could hear a voice. “Little Miss Luka...” it taunted. “Come out and find me, dear little girl. Or perhaps I shall find you!” She tried to pretend it was only her imagination. She tried so hard, shutting her eyes until tears blossomed at the edges. Nibbling at her lip until she tasted blood. It was...inevitable. As much as she shut her eyes, as much as she tried to hide and tried to pretend it was all some silly game...

A hand. She swore she could feel it grip her shoulder. Fingers clasping tight. Hot breath on her neck. The bed creaked, and tears began to slide down her cheeks, dripping off her chin. She dared not to speak. To breathe. To give any sign that she was alive and perfectly awake. It seemed the lion had abandoned the shadows, finally. Her demise was near. Surely, surely. She was out of time.

And light filled the room. Sweet, precious light. Her aunt stood unperturbed in the doorway. “Luka? It isn't like you to sleep in.” The scent of breakfast wafted lazily from the kitchen. Warm, ah, and delicious. Looking to her shoulder, there was no hand. No teeth marks on her skin. She was virtually unharmed. So, shaking off last night's terror, she stood and followed her dear aunt to the kitchen. Yes, it must have been a dream.

Unfortunately, the messily scrawled note under her pillow told another story.


	8. Camping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wonders silently... What is the ratio for people who hate camping compared to those who love it? Is it something simple like a 2:1 or 1:2? Perhaps they are equal? Or maybe there's something more complex at work.

**VIII. Camping**

Camping is a funny experience. Most people have done it at least once. And it's something you either love or hate. She wondered for a moment. How many people hate it compared to how many love it? What is the ratio there? Considering it would be opinion, and opinions change, it would be difficult data to collect. Especially since she had never gone camping herself.

It was for that reason that Miki stood, boots laced up and tent in arm, in a forest I'm sure is not too far from you, dear reader. It was ordinary. Leaves matting the ground. Tall, sweeping branches sprawling above her. Bird chirps and the scuffling of rodents and the sweet, musty smell of nature. It's easy to convince yourself that nature is kind, nature is gentle. Nature is this beautiful, caring thing that hates violence and conflict. Your mileage, of course, may very well vary.

Crouched in the tent. Sleeping bag pulled up. Her notes lay abandoned in the corner. Wind thrashed outside and large thumps were heard. Loud, unmistakable things. Booms and thuds and all sorts of wondrous bumps. But they could not be the birds, the little rodents. Who could identify such mysterious things? The tent trembled with the wind and vibrations. Miki didn't dare to speak, to whisper. Lest she startle the perhaps lurking beast.

But it didn't matter if she had spoken or not. Miki was not heard from again. Her notes were found, sure. Her discarded coat, stained with soil and maybe a bit of blood. If she were telling this story... If she were alive and well to this day... I'm sure she would have questioned the kindness and pacifistic manner that everyone seems to bestow on nature.

And I'm quite sure that she would have never gone camping again.


End file.
